


Cheating With You

by ViciousInnocence



Category: Fargo (TV), It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-23 15:18:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7468692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViciousInnocence/pseuds/ViciousInnocence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Don's moved to Philadelphia and has been seeing Mac for weeks now. Though, Mac has yet to introduce him to his friends.</p>
<p>On Mac's end he's been doing all he can to hide suspicion from the rest of the gang (read; Dennis). When really, all he's been doing is delaying the inevitable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. my god have you changed

**Author's Note:**

> Written bc I was shocked & appalled at lack of fic for Don, bc he didn't deserve what happened to him ; n ; so I pulled him into Sunny. And also bc filth. Though, that said...there will be an (undetermined) amount waiting for said filth.
> 
> Pre-season 12 of Sunny and Pre-season 1 of Fargo. Can probably be read without knowing Fargo too well but it's 80% Sunny fandom content so just sayin'. It kind of contains spoilers for Fargo, but like...only relating to Don's character and they're not massive spoilers for the series anyway.

Dennis has resented having to live with his sister since they moved into the apartment. Scratch that- the second he'd watched his and Mac's shared apartment go up in flames. His heart had sunk when he understood the alimony payments meant he'd be reduced to another flat-share. Most likely one with Mac and his sister.

It wasn't so much as the fact that he had to share a home once again with Dee (which was a whole new issue), it was more that he resented not having his own space anymore. While he'd shared an apartment with Mac since his early twenties, he'd always had the comfort of his own room to retreat to whenever the world outside got too much and he needed a place to be  _alone_ and  _relax._ Here it was impossible. 

They were like three rats trapped in a tiny cage. Rats with an unbelievable amount of material possessions and clothes, who refuse to pick up after themselves or cater to each others needs. 

Three  _selfish_ rats trapped in a tiny cage.

“And stop borrowing my jeans, Mac!”

Dennis yells through the apartment, snatching a pair of his crumpled jeans from the mess of the lounge floor. He'd been trying to clean the lounge for what felt like hours now out of a combination of boredom and frustration at the state of the sorry place he had to call a home. But picking out individual items from the clothes mountain at the foot of the couch was barely reducing it's size at a rapid rate and was only a single source of the general clutter.

Dennis did have half a mind to give up entirely, but that was before he'd seen the state of one of his favourite pairs of jeans. He'd spent hours re-designing the panels, and measuring them against his own frame, they were totally self-adjusted to perfectly extenuate his thighs. But he doubts Mac understands how long it takes to unpick all the threading and to re-sow through the thick material of denim.

“You stretch the fucking material with your _fat_  ass. I told you, you ruin them!”

He lectures, standing up to hold the jeans out in front of him at the waistband and inspect them for damage.

“It’s not my fault, I can’t tell the difference between our shit, it all looks the same when it’s on the floor.”

Mac’s muffled voice comes through the screen door, making Dennis’ rage peak a little higher in his tense frame.

“Of course you can! Yours are the ugly off-brand bluish ones, that are usually stained and stink of beer.”

He screeches, observing how the self-adjusted material around the legs is now stretched out and ruined for his own body. He takes a deep breath and turns the clothing in his hands to see if the back had suffered as much damage as the front.

Dennis’ mouth drops open and his eyebrows knot in disgust. There's tan messily smeared all over the back-pockets. He feels himself shaking his head as he turns on his heel to storm into the bedroom.

“Ok, now seriously, Mac,” he starts, flinging open the screen doors to reveal Mac as a barely visible face-down lump under the covers of their california king bed. For some reason this further provokes Dennis’ mood, as he marches over to the bed and flings aside the covers from Mac’s upper half.

“What the fuck, man?” Mac murmurs, wrapping his arm around his eyes to shield himself from the light of the room, even as Dennis slaps his head.

“Ow!” Mac snaps, as he shuffles backwards out of Dennis’ reach before finally looking up to see a rage untethering Dennis stood over him, angrily waving his faded jeans before his face.

“I am drawing the line, you are banned from wearing my shit.”

Mac squints up at him, frowning as he rubs his eyes,

“Fine, fine, I’m sorry,” he mumbles, non-committedly,

“I’m tired right now, please just let me sleep.”

He punctuates his sentence with a yawn, as if on cue, before leaning down into the pillows, hugging them close and burying his face into the plush material. But Dennis isn’t done,

“I’ll let you sleep when you agree to buy me a new pair of jeans,” he spits out, climbing onto the mattress, which Mac feels dip under his weight.

“Oh c’mon, please-“ he protests, even as Dennis grabs him by the shoulder and pushes him onto his back. He’s turned so he’s facing Dennis, who's irritation is mirrored in Mac's blood-shot eyes glaring back up at him.

“Fine, I’ll buy you a new pair of jeans,” he mutters, tracing Dennis’ expression.

“And…?” Dennis breathes, to which Mac now scrunches his face up in confusion,

“And what?” he growls, defiantly pulling a pillow under his head with one hand to rest on. Dennis glares down from above him, blocking out the ceiling light from view with his head,

“You’re never going to take my jeans, or wear any other of my items of clothing again!” he snaps. Mac knows he should stop talking, agree with what he's saying and go back to sleep, but he’s never caved before and wasn’t about to make a habit of it and roll over like a god damn dog.

“I already said I wouldn’t,” he snarks back, sitting up a little on his elbow, as Dennis snorts, looking off to the side before returning his attention to Mac with an eye-roll.

“You didn’t mean that,” he says, smiling as if he’s got one over on his friend, like Mac's groveling in apology. Mac feels a pulse in his forehead,

“You’re right, I didn’t mean it,” he replies smugly, watching the others face darken in satisfaction,

“and I’m going to keep wearing your clothes every single day for the rest of my life, and you know what? There’s nothing you can do about-“

He’s cut off with a back-handed slap across the face, that has him reeling a little in shock from the force of it. He’d been half-asleep before, but now he was wide awake, feeling adrenaline rush through him.

“Did you just fucking _slap_ me?” he grits out, turning to face Dennis who was still kneeling above him, eyes now glinting with intrigue. Mac feels himself flush with anger, as the other speaks to him again in a voice so quiet it was barely a whisper.

“I guess there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Dennis tilts his head upwards, just so, peering down at Mac.

“Am I right?”

This time Mac doesn’t care, he gives Dennis what he wants.

In the next few seconds he’s launched himself off the bed at Dennis, managing to grab him by the shoulders before Dennis can defend himself, pushing him down beneath him. He seats himself on the other’s chest, pinning the others arms beneath his knees. Dennis is looking up at him with eyes blown wide and Mac raises his arm to return the favour. But he finds himself frozen, staring down, Dennis' chest is lightly moving under his blue button-down shirt, shallow breaths of anticipation. Like he wanted him to do it.

“Damn it Dennis,” Mac's face crumples, as he slides off the other man, standing from the bed and walking out of the room in his boxers without so much as a backwards glance.

Mac kept his eyebrows knotted together all the way to their cramped kitchen. At times like this Mac wishes his credit rating wasn't so poor. If he lived alone he wouldn't have to deal with any of this bull-shit. He was still light-headed and aching from lack of sleep, but Dennis had clearly made it evident he wasn't letting him rest again any-time soon. He was going to have to make do with the meager amount of shut-eye he'd managed to get.

Upon sighting the fridge he realises he's starving after napping. He yanks the fridge open to search for something to satisfy his hunger, but only finding a half-full bottle of orange juice amongst the leftovers from last week. He knows it was Dennis’ turn to do the groceries, and that does nothing to alleviate his mood as he grabs the juice, slamming the door shut in his wake.

By the time he’s opened the cap and leant against the kitchen counter, Dennis is following him into the kitchen. Mac continues to raise the bottle to his lips defiantly, staring Dennis down while he drinks. Something catches Mac’s eye in his peripheral vision; Dennis is still carrying round his fucking jeans after him, ready to begin a further lecture. Mac’s chest suddenly aches in irritation, hurriedly swallowing,

“For the love of God, I’ll stop wearing them-“

“Fuck you, asshole.”

Dennis spits back, and for a split second Mac sees red.

“I’m putting them in the machine, because you got tan all over them and - _hopefully –_ the heat might shrink them back to the right size,” he continues, ignoring Mac as he walks past to open the machine and throw the jeans in.

Mac barely manages to hold his tongue as the apartment dissolves into a tense silence, Dennis leaving the room briefly only to return with a further armful of clothes, squatting again close to Mac to load them into the machine.

Both men are unwilling to break the silence or leave the room, almost like it’s now become a competition. Who’s going to crack?

Mac thinks one day that they both will. They’re both slowly heading towards an argument so great that they’ll both completely lose it, go hell for leather into a violent frenzy that will probably culminate in scars and broken bones. Or maybe they won’t even have to argue. As they keep getting older it’s getting harder simply to survive being around Dennis. Never mind being one of the unlucky bastards who lives with him, who'll get slapped across the face for borrowing his clothes and scratched when they won't look him in the eye. But then again, maybe Mac’s just as much to blame. It’s too easy for him to unload all of his own anger onto Dennis, because he’s the perfect scapegoat. He's able to take Mac's rage and neutralise it, or just as readily serve it right back again. They're bad for each other.

Mac keeps drinking the juice despite the fact he’s no longer thirsty or enjoying the taste. One of Dee’s ugly framed pictures is on the wall opposite. It’s a terrible printed image of some grapes.

Mac hates it.

There’s a sudden clicking next to him from Dennis shutting one of the machine’s drawers, but he refuses to acknowledge it. The machine beeps and slowly starts its washing cycle, as Mac keeps staring straight ahead at the ugly grapes. Hopefully now Dennis will leave the apartment and Mac will be able to curl up in bed again.

Instead the man in question walks directly into Mac’s line of vision as he also pops open the fridge for inspection, like Mac did before him. Clearly he has just as much luck as Mac did. He shuts it again roughly ten seconds later.

It’s only when Dennis turns his head to look at him that Mac realises he’s been staring.

Dennis’ face is hard to read, as always, and he doesn’t look away.

Mac attempts to shift some of the angry tension out through his shoulders, flexing his free arm a little, snapping out an irritated _What?_ in Dennis’ direction. He can feel his eyes crawling over him like he’s seeing Mac half-naked for the first time.

Mac feels his heart plunge amidst his anger.

“You don’t look very tan.”

“Huh?”

Dennis’ eyes fix back on his own, as Mac wrinkles his upper lip in confusion.

“Tan,” he repeats, tilting his head a little. He’s looking at Mac down his nose.

“You’re as pale as ever,” he voice fades away towards the end of his sentence like he's contemplating a puzzle in his mind.

Mac gives it a few seconds thought. He comes up empty.

“Why would I be tanning? I don’t wanna look like some streaky New Jersey tramp like you,” he fires back easily, drinking from the bottle in his hand – it’s muscle memory – he winces when he tastes orange juice and not beer.

When he returns his attention to Dennis, he’s inspecting him again, like a trainer looks over a race horse. This time Mac’s had enough, he pushes past Dennis without a word and roughly throws the juice into the door of their empty fridge.

“I’m going out…” he mutters bitterly. He badly wanted to spend the day at home, but he has no time for whatever particular set of mind games Dennis feels like trialing on him today.

* * *

 

It’s only after he’s changed and collected his things from the apartment, exiting the complex that he realises Dennis is on to him.

“Fuck.”

He pauses in the dimly-lit stairwell, foot hovering in mid-air.

Dennis _knows_.

He hovers, un-moving, as he tries to decide whether to go back and talk it over. Attempt to try and smooth out any suspicion. He bites his lip a little as he looks back up the stairs over his shoulder. 

What would he say exactly? There's no way of denying that it wasn't him who got tan stains all over the backside of his jeans. Clearly Dennis had pieced that together in the space of the last ten minutes. He could say it was someone else. But who? Someone un-threatening. Someone who Dennis knows already.

There's two people, aside from Dennis, who Mac knows occasionally wear fake tan. One of which is Dee, and he and Dennis both know she would rather set herself on fire than have any kind of intimate contact with Mac. There's Carmen too, but Dennis also knows she hasn't seen Mac in well over a year and has probably read the couple letters he'd received from the local police about Carmen's consideration of placing Mac on the stalkers register. God damn.

Why was Dennis such a pervert in every aspect of Mac's life?

Mac supposes it's precisely for these moments that Dennis does it. Reads (and destroys) his mail before it even reaches him. Agrees to pay for his phone bill so he can monitor all Mac's calls and relationships. Forced him to download that GPS app which relays his location to Dennis' mobile at all times. It's all so he can consistently have Mac by the balls over any kind of secret. Really, with the amount of round-the-clock surveillance he's under, it's amazing he'd managed to experience this amount of freedom at all.

He hangs around awkwardly, holding onto the banister with one foot on the ground for a good thirty seconds before he realises he can’t go back. That’s exactly what Dennis would have wanted. He'd be ready and waiting like a wolf, sharpening his claws for interrogation. The thought makes Mac feel a little bit ill in his stomach. Which only gets worse when he realises he can't avoid Dennis forever.

Eventually Mac puts his other foot down on the step, before putting his other one down in front, again and again as he slowly descends the stairs. He's not sure where he's going, but he can't stay here.

He can't avoid Dennis forever, that's true. Instead, like all things concerning Dennis, he needs a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name Don Chumph makes me laugh.  
> I stg when I wrote this I only realised the parallel of having a washing machine present in the first chapter matches Fargo, after I had written it. WEIRD.
> 
> (Nobody gives a shit but;) title and chapter headings from Cheating With You by The Correspondents, which is essentially about a guy dating a girl who constantly changes her appearance/self seamlessly as their relationship evolves. So essentially he's cheating on her with all her alternate selves...it's kind of a ref. to the fact Glenn plays both Don and Dennis, nye?


	2. even your kisses are now strange

“Holy- shit-hah!- man, you’re fuckin’ crazy.”

“That- was- that was- intense.”

“Don’t think I’ve come from that before.”

Upon receiving only silence, Don turns his head on the pillow to face his partner.

Aside from the rise and fall of his chest, Mac’s lying seemingly stock-still from exertion, his face damp with perspiration, the residue glistening in the stubble that had been scratching against the inside of the other man’s thighs moments ago. At that thought Don feels the patch on his inner thighs burn and tingle again, he grins, leaning over and grabbing hold of Mac’s closest wrist – which serves to finally get his attention.

“Hm?”

Mac’s head turns this time, eyes wide like he’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Don was starting to get used to the familiar expression.

“I said,” he leans in closer, “nobody’s ever made me come like that before.”

“Oh.”

Mac’s face is slowly turning beet-red, almost embarrassed? His eyes search Don’s for a few moments, until he’s unable to find what he’s looking for – then he turns away, facing the ceiling.

Don lets the moment drag on for a few seconds more, before he realises Mac’s not going to turn back again. He feels himself pout a little and reluctantly he relinquishes his hold on Mac’s wrist, flopping backwards onto his sweat damp mattress - the sunflower scent of his body lotion lifting into the air.

Lately it always seemed to be this way. Mac was so distracted. Don wasn’t sure which was more strange, that Mac kept repeatedly being so distant or that he wouldn’t tell him where his mind went.

Don had been so excited to have found someone to hang out with within the first few days of moving to Philadelphia, more so after they'd slept with each other and Don realised that, for the first time in a long while, he had loved it. It may have thrown his sexuality up into the air for discussion, but Don had never really taken that aspect of life too seriously to begin with. He was almost addicted to Mac's presence and for him, that was enough to pursue Mac.

Don wasn't sure if the excitement he felt near the other man was sourced from the overall experience of change and moving home. His usual mundane routine and work schedule in freezing cold Bemidji were now contrasted with the warmer and more exciting climate and clientele of a bigger city. Even his new home in Philly was much nicer, more spacious. It served to make all experiences in Philadelphia more exciting by proxy.

But for some reason, Don liked to think there was something more to it than proxy.

Mac seemed to constantly revere him like a prized possession, to an almost dangerous degree for someone who he'd known less than a month. Aside from occasionally sharing the same sense of humour, Mac's attraction to him was overwhelmingly physical. In the bedroom or otherwise, it was like Mac was obsessed with his body.

From the moment they'd first met, every time they were in the same room together, Don constantly felt Mac's eyes on him - watching. The thought of it always made sure to send a shiver down Don's spine.

He knew it wasn't normal behaviour and it wasn't normal to feel the way he did about it. Yet he couldn't help but find it all unhealthily satisfying. 

But lately as the week's had dragged on, Mac's demeanor had changed. Though there were still sparks of awe in his eyes whenever Don did something as simple as undress or flash a smile, he was now more often than not distracted by something in his mind. It was clearly that  _something_ which was currently plaguing Mac's thoughts.

They lie there naked in relative silence, aside from the antique clock slowly ticking away against the wall opposite and their breathing which was rapidly now returning to normalcy.

There’s a rustling of pillows to his left; Don looks to check.

“Sorry, I was just-” Mac bites his lip a little, deep brown eyes now staring across at him, he blinks a little as a strand of his black hair falls forward, “-thinking.”

Don stares back for a couple seconds. He so badly wants to ask;  _What are you thinking about?_ He wants to ask.

But judging by the intensity of these moments, Mac's unlikely to simply tell him what's going on in his mind. If he wants to know, he's going to have to play the waiting game.

“I don’t care,” he smiles instead,

“as long as you keep me coming like that, I’ll let ya do whatever you want…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not actually sure how old Don is? x: I wanna say early 30's?  
> Also writing characters with minimal screen time is good and bad. Good bc you have certain amount of leeway. Bad bc you dont know if you're doing it right?  
> Though I do think he's kind of a morbid character like...he willingly teams up/jokes around with Lorne Malvo...I mean. That's why I think he'd be attracted to obsession.  
> Short chapter; sorry. Next one is long tho so eyy.


	3. you've brought an attitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got so long like wtf. Also at this point I'd like to say there's chronologically a couple of days at least between each chapter.

"What do you think's wrong with him?"

"I don't know. Actually, I was going to ask you the same thing."

"What? Why me?"

"You're the one who lives with him! Does he do this at your place too?"

Dee glances slyly over her shoulder to where Dennis is sat doing nothing other than idly flicking through a newspaper and nursing a beer, which is stood behind two empty bottles. She turns back again to Charlie, who raises an eyebrow for her answer, like they're in on some big secret.

"Pretty much. He just seems to mope around a lot recently," she says, before adding,

"I mean, like, more than usual."

"Huh."

Charlie looks off to the space over Dee's shoulder, his eyes wide and lips pursed in thought. Dee watches and waits, she knows never to rush Charlie. He snaps out of it in the next five seconds, meeting Dee's stare.

"You don't think he's like you know...?" he trails off with an awkward shrug, face twisting up into an undefinable expression. Dee frowns back,

"He's like what?" she whispers, to which Charlie gestures between them with his hand,

"You know, like-" he mimes out like he's being choked, Dee watches.

"No, Charlie I don't know-" she hisses, her upper lip pulled up in confusion.

"No, no! Like-" he wraps two hands round his throat and mimes out being strangled.

"No Charlie, I don't know what that is!" Dee repeats, being careful not to let her voice get too loud, but Charlie just keeps strangling himself.

"Like- this-"

Dee grabs his wrists and pulls his hands from his throat,

"Just say it, Charlie," she snaps, letting go of him, as Charlie rolls his eyes.

"Choking chicks, dude," he explains, gesturing again at the space between their chests, "I thought we discussed this ages ago."

"Ohhhhh!" Dee's eyes go wide like she's just been told the right answer to a difficult quiz. Charlie nods back at her with an exaggerated smile, like the answer was obvious all along. She whips her head round to steal another look at her brother, who's barely moved an inch.

"Oh, no, I don't think we're at that stage yet," she says, eyes tracing over Dennis as he delicately turns the page of his newspaper and continues reading.

"He probably just needs to get laid or something." 

Dee turns back to Charlie, who sticks his arm out to lean comfortably against the back counter of the bar. 

"So, he's not being getting any?" he asks, as Dee shakes her head,

"Nope, I mean, I would know- we share the same apartment- you know his weird system," she explains, flipping her hand in disgust, 

"and as much as it grosses me out to say this; Dennis needs to bang somebody- anybody."

She nods affirmatively to Charlie, folding her arms over her chest,

"Like, now."

"Maybe his system's off? Or like, he is getting older now- so the eighteen-twenty year olds are kind of becoming a stretch," Charlie flicks his eyes up to Dee like they're discussing why their child is underachieving in school.

"Yeah, or maybe it's 2016, and girls have finally realised they can do better than get groped by a forty-year-old fetishist."

"Hey!"

Dee's eyes go wide at the sound of her brothers voice, Charlie looks around her side to see Dennis is now glaring at them,

"It's not a fetish, it's-"

"You were listening this whole time?" 

Charlie's voice is loud in the empty bar, as Dennis narrows his eyes and Dee reluctantly turns around to face her brother.

"I'm sat right here," Dennis is gesturing to what little space exists between the three of them across the wooden bar,

"How could I possibly _not_  hear you?"

Both Charlie and Dee turn to look at each other, miming an embarrassed _Oh..._

Dennis raises his eyebrows and forces a sigh:  _unbelievable._ He looks back down to the local story he was reading, but it's not interesting enough to switch off the nagging in the back of his mind. He looks up again at the other two behind the bar.

“But if you must know; it's not me. There's nothing wrong with _me_ or my technique. It's this whole sharing thing that has really thrown my game off,” he absently looks down as he turns the beer bottle in his hands, before he continues,

"because FYI if you ever bring back a chick to your shared apartment, which looks more like a refugee camp, and manage to get her through to your bedroom,"

"you had better hope to God that your sister hasn't left her dirty underwear lying around underneath the sheets, because evidently, that is very off-putting to women who think you're single."

Charlie turns to look at Dee, who shrugs un-apologetically,

"If anything, I'm saving those women from the terrible experience of sleeping with you, so."

Dennis' eyebrows push together as he looks up at his sister,

"You were just saying that I need to get laid?"

Dee blinks at him, her arms unfolding, "Ahh..."

"It's family or feminism, Dee, because I'm telling you, I can't do both."

"Why don't you just go back to their place then?" she suggests, to which Dennis winces a little.

"That's what I have been doing but, there's still too many factors to consider which can sabotage the end goal," he takes a large mouthful of beer.

"Such as...?" Dee hints, Dennis swallows to talk.

"You'd be surprised how many women want to change their mind about previous agreements, and just want someone to spoon them in their bed until they fall asleep, like I'm some kind of human comforter," he grits out,

"And they all use their home territory to their advantage to do this, specifically if they have a flatmate or a neighbour nearby - it means I have to take 'no' as an answer."

Charlie's face is twisted up in disgust, while Dee contemplates her brothers words.

"As opposed to what, dude?"

Dennis glances over, looking confused before laughing shortly,

"Who raised you, again?" he asks, looking to Dee who shrugs, before distracting herself from the conversation, starting to re-arrange the bottles on the back counter. Dennis returns his attention to Charlie, his voice dropping in key,

" _Never_ take no for an answer, Charlie. I don't believe in the word 'no'."

Charlie winces a little, appearing visibly uncomfortable enough for Dennis to explain himself. 

"Actions speak louder than words do, these women- they're not _trapped_. They can always  _leave -_ but they don't. Do you know why?" he asks as if it's rhetorical,

"Because if they do say 'no', they don't _really_ mean it. Really, the word has no function." 

He pauses to finish off the beer, throwing his head back to drain every last drop, smacking his lips with a satisfied sigh, eyeing the empty glass in the light.

"Nope. Don't believe it has a function, not in the bedroom, or out," he pauses again for a second, before adding an afterthought, "or up against a car door, either."

Charlie still seems a little off but Dennis doesn't notice, pleased with his own speech. As he replaces his beer down on the bar, Dennis catches something in his peripheral vision. He turns his head properly to see Frank staring at him with a glazed expression. He frowns,

"What’s wrong with him? The usual?” Dennis asks, eyes flicking over Frank like he’s an obscure science project, while he stares back like a stoned goldfish in a bowl.

“Kinda, he keeps getting these eerie ransom notes in the mail-” Charlie says casually addressing Frank like they were totally aware he was sat there all along, he pauses to grab his own beer and pop the cap off behind the bar,

“-asking him for money and shit. I keep telling him to ignore them, but he won't. They make him think, and I guess thinking’s getting too hard for him these days, because they just send him into this half-bashed rat state.” He finishes, taking a long drink of beer, before suddenly leaning forward and yelling _FRANK!_ into the old man’s ear, serving only to make the twins jump instead of their non-biological father.

“Jesus, Charlie,” Dee breathes over her shoulder.

“See,” Charlie says, still looking and Frank, gesturing over his still body,

“Nothin.”

Dennis merely raises an eyebrow. He couldn't really give two shits about Frank in the first place: in-animate or otherwise. 

“Don’t you keep wondering where Mac goes these days?” 

Charlie starts to make his way round the front of the bar, presumably to sit down, while Dee makes an un-interested grunt, not even bothering to stop her current task.

“Honestly, I’m at the point where I don’t give a shit anymore, he could be sticking needles into his eyeball for all I care.”

Charlie looks to Dennis, from his new position on the neighbouring bar stool,

“I kinda agree with Dee, just let him do what he wants man, it's not like he’s hurting anybody,” Charlie says, shifting further to the edge of his bar stool in an effort to get comfy.

“I know it’s just-“ Dennis shamefully finds himself breaking eye-contact with Charlie to pick at the peeling label on his beer, before finding his words and looking back up again,

“I just like _knowing_ things, you know?”

Dennis completely misses how Dee's eyes are now on him, narrowed like a hawk.

"Oh?" she says, causing the two men to look up,

"Sounds like someone's jealous that Mac actually has a life outside of Dennis," she grins, managing to suitably piss off her twin.

"Jealous? I just want to make sure he's not doing something incredibly stupid," he shoots back, it's a lame comeback but it's halfway to the truth.

"Sure," Dee smiles. Dennis  _hates_ that shit-eating expression.

 

 

The room falls quiet for a brief ten second pause, before the bar door crashes open,

"What up?"

Mac's voice rings through the bar, automatically turning everyone's head out of habit, whether they like it or not. 

He's stood just in the entrance of the bar nearby, clearly pausing for a response. He's wearing his standard get-up, hair gelled back, Detroit t-shirt, lurid blue jeans and scuffed black boots - the outfit gives no clue to where he's been. Dennis suddenly remembers something,

"Where the hell have you been all morning? You said we'd meet here before twelve - it is now-" he snaps to Mac, gaining his attention, before he quickly checks his phone where it's discarded on the bar surface,

"almost two PM," he finishes, turning his upper body back round to face Mac.

"Oh sorry, I forgot, I was meeting someone," Mac says, completely unapologetic, smiling like a total goofball. 

The gang look suitably intrigued, despite any earlier statements (minus Frank, who dribbles a little onto his lap).

"Someone...we know or...?" Dee prompts, subtly raising an eyebrow.

"No, actually. I met  _him_ at the gym a couple weeks back, and I want you guys to meet," Mac replies, nodding his head specifically to Dennis, who does all he can not to roll his eyes. Though secretly he knows this is a good thing, that Mac still seeks his personal approval above everyone else.

The next few seconds drag on as Mac remains standing still with his hands clasped in front of him, looking over to the gang like he's waiting under a spotlight to present an award. 

The rest of the gang crane their necks to the door as the silence begins to set in around them.

"So, like is he in the room right now? Because I can't see him," Charlie asks, giving Mac a pitiful expression.

Mac quickly glances back to the door,

"Oh no-" 

He turns back to face the rest of them,

"He'll be here any second, he went to park the car."

"Ohhh, guys," Dee mocks, 

"he went to park  _the car!"_ she gives a mean laugh,

"You mean  _his_ car right?"

"Shut up, Dee," Dennis snaps, not even bothering to turn all the way to face his sister, before looking over to Mac again,

"Who is this guy, anyway? What's his deal?" He asks, unable to completely mask his curiosity. 

The bar door creaks open and another figure walks in, all three gang members by the bar instantly looking over.

Mac smiles approvingly before turning to hold an arm out towards the man stepping through the doorway,

"Guys, I'd like you to all meet my _new_ personal trainer; Don."

The man stepping through the door is wearing a matching blue and white Fred Perry tracksuit, it's either been freshly pressed or is simply brand new because it's probably the cleanest attire Paddy's Pub has ever seen through it's doors. It hangs loosely over his frame, only slightly covering up the back of the designer gym trainers he'd clearly paired with the outfit. He looks rich.

Safe to say the gang are speechless. They'd all subconsciously set the bar low in the back of their mind. Even Dee has forgotten the initial urge she had to tease Mac for not having an  _old_ personal trainer in the first place.

"Sorry, it was hard to find a space, there's quite a few caravans parked up round the corner," he says to Mac as he reaches the other man's side, throwing a friendly arm round his shoulder. Mac's arm immediately wraps around Don's waist, clearly out of habit.

When Don turns to face the gang, bright white teeth smiling towards the bar - despite the dim lighting - Charlie notes his skin looks like peanut butter, while Dennis feels his mouth drop open.

"It's nice to finally meet you guys," Don speaks again, this time they're over the initial shock of his appearance and can pick up a strong Minnesota accent in his voice.

"Your bar is..." he looks round, God help him, Dee thinks, clearly doing his best not to let the shock-horror go any further than his eyes,

"...really...unique." He decides, maintaining a wide smile, letting his eyes wander over the cheap green lamps, mold crusted ceiling and the damp stained walls a few moments longer, before returning his attention to the gang, who stare back suitably stunned with the strange character Mac has managed to add to their roster.

Paddy's falls into an awkward silence.

"Soo..." 

Unfortunately Charlie's the first to speak, gaining the attention of all in the room, except Dennis, who can't stop tracing his eyes over Don.

"You're a person trainer? Like a dog trainer? But with...human beings?"

Don blinks back at him,

"Huh?"

"No, Charlie," Mac starts, his smile has vanished and he sounds tired already, but Charlie continues, excited,

"Are you gonna make Mac run through loads of tubes? Is he trained right now?" 

He jumps forward out of his seat,

"Sit!" he jerks his hand to point to the floor, 

"Down boy, sit, Mac! Sit!"

"Ahhh..." Mac takes a panicked look at Don, who look's like he's tied between laughter and freaking the fuck out. Luckily Dee manages to save him,

"No, Charlie, a personal trainer is like a buddy who gets paid to boss you around in the gym," she explains in words that she hopes make sense to him.

Charlie wrinkles his nose up, looking over at Don with undisguised disappointment, while the latter opens his mouth to defend his profession but is cut off.

"Oh, right." He sits back down on the bar stool and re-attaches his hand to his beer. He shuffles a little closer to Dennis, clearly uninterested in any further interaction.

"I'm Dee by the way," she introduces herself, smiling darkly at Mac's new friend and giving a small wave, before pointing to the other three sat on the stools.

"Charlie, Dennis, and this isn't so important, but this is Frank."

She points lastly to the gangs final member, who is still as stone. Don notices, he also points to Frank, looking to Mac,

"Is he OK?"

"He's fine," Dee informs rolling her eyes, before looking over to their squat friend,

"Or not."

She laughs cruelly,

"I mean, we're kinda just waiting for him to drop off at this point-"

Mac feels Don shift a little closer to him,

"-so like I said, he's not really important. Probably won't be here much longer- but how about you? How long have you known Mac?" the smile on her face and the position she takes up, leaning her head in hand on the bar is so obviously fake, but Don doesn't seem to notice.

"I -uhh, think it's been like two months now, actually?" he once again looks to Mac to check, before being distracted as Dennis snorts a little.

"Mac said it was just a couple weeks," he says smugly, as Don finally takes in Dennis' appearance properly, for the first time.

Mac can feel the hairs on the back of his neck beginning to stand on end as Dennis and Don finally lock eyes on each other. He watches Dennis' eyes trail over Don's body, up over his legs and along the arm slung round Mac's neck, before looking directly into Mac's eyes. 

Dennis smirks, his eyebrow raised; _H_ _a. Got you._

But before Mac can do anything about the cold panic running down his spine, Dee's speaking up again,

"Two months?" she snorts, giving a short forced laugh,

"How can anybody stand being around Mac for that long?" she says, before falling into horrible tinny laughter at her own awful joke.

Mac's starting to feel a little sick as Dennis speaks up again, he's casually leaning back on his elbows against the bar,

"Yeah, how do you spend so much time around him,  _Don?"_ he spits the word out mockingly,

"What have you two been getting up to for the past  _two months?_ Must be something  _real_ interesting for Mac to introduce you to us," he pouts a little to Don,

"He never tells us anything."

Mac doesn't miss the dark glint in Dennis' eyes as he slyly glances over to him while Don is distracted.

"Oh, he hasn't told you?" Don says, apparently completely unaware of the sheer amount of fuckery going on in the room.

Dennis smiles nicely - it's so alien to Mac it scares him. He feels like he's going to have a panic attack if they stay here much longer. They need to get out of here.  _Now._

"No, he always likes to keep us in the dark," Dennis points at the friendly arm around Mac's body,

"But clearly, the two of you are _very_ close."

Mac feels Don let out a breath of excited laughter, as he pulls him closer,

"I can't believe he hasn't told you-"

And that does it. In the space of five minutes, Mac's reached his limit for today.

"Oh my god, I knew you guys were going to be like this," Mac shouts angrily, fuck waiting for an excuse to leave, he's going to have to make one for himself. He lets his arm fall quickly from Don's waist as he gives the man a gentle push against his shoulder in the direction of the door.

"Wha-?" Don turns to look at Mac, 

"We're leaving already?"

Mac glares at his four friends over by the bar, he had bitten the bullet and introduced them to Don. That was enough for one day.

"Yeah, I told you they're all assholes."

"What? No- we only just got here, I had to drive all over town-"

"Yeah Mac, we were just talking, you don't have to leave on our account," Dennis shouts as they near the door.

It takes all his willpower for Mac to ignore the comment, refusing to look back, but at least Don stops leaning backwards against him and starts to walk to the door himself.

"I guess, I'll see you guys later," Don says, giving a friendly wave to the four sociopaths stood around the bar before Mac reaches behind him and pulls Don out of the door by his arm.

Only Dee gives a short wave back, while Charlie and Dennis simply watch the door swing shut, and then Paddy's is silent once more.

 

 

"You know what, I'm happy for Mac. I think this'll be good for him," Charlie states proudly, looking at the empty spot where he stood with Don.

"Yes.  _I'm_ happy for Mac too Charlie," she says looking pointedly at the back of her brothers head, as he remains facing the door.

"Two months is basically a five year relationship for Mac," she turns back to sorting through their stock,

"Maybe next month he'll actually move out - then it's only one loser to go before Sweet Dee has her apartment  _alll_ to herself again."

“You didn’t see him?” Dennis asks, head whipping round from the door to the other three at the bar.

“Oh I saw _him_ ,” Dee mumbles half-heartedly, not even bothering to turn from her task of re-arranging the spirits, at the same time as Charlie offers;

“Yeah, good for Mac."

Dennis ignores them both, in favour of pressing his point across further,

“That guy looked exactly like me,” he turns and puts his hands on the bar as Dee moves to quizzically observe her brothers face.

“Oh yeah,” she says softly, eyes flicking over her twins features, before she flips her bleach blonde back round again,

“guess he did a little bit.”

Dennis shakes his head.

“No,” he snaps instantly, diving over the bar to grab another beer, popping the cap off on the side of the bar, which finally seems to alert Frank back to life. He startles like he’s just woken up from a thousand-year sleep, before turning his head to glare sharply at Dennis.

“Stop doing that! You’ll ruin the wood,” he spits angrily, Dennis glares back for a split second as he continues.

“Not just a little bit like me,” he says, reaching out to grab Dee’s forearm. She curses and stumbles backwards a little as her brother pulls her close to look into his eyes.

“That guy looked _exactly_ like me, right down to my nose,” he breathes and Dee wrinkles her face, shifting out of her brother’s uncomfortable grip with a small irritated jerk backwards.

“Your nose?” She deadpans, but Dennis nods enthusiastically, blue eyes flashing with recognition.

“Yeah! It had the exact same kink in it,” he says, watching his twin look over his features with a satisfied smile.

“I’m not sure Dennis, I only remember kicking one of you in the face when we were in high-school,” she says smugly, returning her attention once again to the bottles.

Dennis purses his lips and manages to avoid pursuing the comment in favour of turning to Frank and Charlie.

“Are you all telling me that nobody is going to talk about how that guy looked like my _actual_ twin?” He says, watching Frank's aged face wrinkle further in thought. 

“He could be your actual twin. Your mother always said you and Deandra consumed the third twin-“

“No-“ Dennis regrets asking, holding up a hand to signal Frank to stop talking, wondering if Frank even  _saw_ Don or he was just picking up from scraps of their conversation.

“-but she always was a lying _bitch,_ ” he spits out violently, shaking his finger in the air, “she could’a lied. I knew it. The third one was gonna be the good one, I was gonna call him Don-“

“-no, NO!” Dennis is forced into shouting to stop Frank saying anymore,

“First of all, that wouldn’t make him our ‘third twin’, that would make us triplets- but secondly, more to the point, we would have found out about our triplet by now, there is no way in hell he could be related to any of us.”

“I don’t see why not?” Dee chimes up again, turning around whilst dusting down an expensive bottle of tequila,

“We didn’t find out about Bruce Mathis until halfway through our lives,” she offers.

“Yeah but,” Dennis gestures between the two of them, at their tall, lean bodies,

“we always kinda knew.”

Dee tilts her head to one side and nods in agreement.

“Maybe he is Bruce Mathis’ kid,” Charlie sounds to his right and Dennis frowns in frustration before he turns to reply.

“He’s not our triplet.”

Charlie shakes his head,

“No, not that, but like, this guy still could be his son,” he squeaks, his loud voice cutting through the air.

"I mean, no offence, he's way too young to be your third twin anyway. But he does look a lot like Dennis when he was still young," Charlie says, eyes calmly tracing over Dennis' now tense frame.

"Still young?"

Dee senses the danger and attempts to cut him off before the conversation turns ugly.

“Charlie has a point-“

_"Still young?"_

Dennis' voice is deadly.

Frank makes a big show of expressing his disgust, face creasing in on itself as he flicks a hand into the air.

“He probably _is_ your brother,” he faces the twins, but to his irritation they're not paying attention.

"I could easily be that man's twin- I may be forty now, but I stopped aging ten years ago-"

"Gah, shut up, shut up and  _listen,_ " Frank cuts in, Charlie tilts his head to one side in thought,

"Nobody cares Dennis, please-" Dee attempts to speak at the same time as Charlie,

"Nobody just  _stops_ aging, it's basic science," he states, to which Dennis takes an angry step forwards.

"You don't understand basic science, Charlie! I hardly think you're going to understand the complex mechanisms of my skincare routine-"

"Hoo boy," Dee mumbles, looking off to the side,

"here we go with the skin again."

"I heard that-"

"I SAID  _BE QUIET YOU GOD DAMN BRATS."_

The trio don't jump but are forced into silence over the sudden and violent shout. Dee and Charlie looking to Frank before Dennis, who glares at empty space for a few seconds longer before turning.

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you kids but your mother was a dirty, _dirty_ , whore. There’s every chance he could be related to us, or Mathis and if he is,” Frank looks around, waving them all to crowd in closer, continuing to glance about like he’s checking nobody else is listening, as if they’re in a really over-crowded area and not their rancid dive bar.

Dennis gestures with his hands,

“just get to the point.”

Frank finally settles on looking between the three younger faces in front of him,

“If he is the child of Bruce Mathis, there’s still a chance we can get our hands on that _money_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember the therapy episode where Frank cries over lost triplet Don(ny/nie?) BC I DO. Mini head-canon that Don's the good one lol.

**Author's Note:**

> Idk when/if I will add to it bc I'm so shit, I'm sorry. I love how I have no excuses left at this point; I'm just a bad person with a bad attention span (and now pokemon go lol).


End file.
